


Starting Point

by absurdvampmuse



Series: Hungry Eyes [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 12:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11714274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absurdvampmuse/pseuds/absurdvampmuse
Summary: Bellarke. Sequel to Hungry Eyes (or standalone piece) Set after Praimfaya. Clarke deals with the aftermath of her almost kiss with Bellamy./The warrior princess and the self-proclaimed king." Clarke looked up at Murphy as she grabbed a hold of the sweater & tugged it from his grip. The sweater Bellamy had left for her. Up here, there was nowhere to run & maybe she didn't want to./





	Starting Point

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the rights to the TV or book series the 100. Nor do I own any of the characters. I am merely borrowing them. All I own is my imagination and the laptop I wrote this on.
> 
> A/N: I've been on a newfound Bellarke kick these last couple of weeks, rewatching my favorite moments of them as well as scouring the internet for some good fanfiction. Urged by this innate fascination, I wrote this story. It is technically a sequel to my last Bellarke fic (Hungry Eyes), but it can also be read as a standalone. Either way, I hope you'll end up liking it and be so kind as to share your thoughts with me by reviewing. Also, if you have any suggestions for some good Bellarke fics, please leave those behind as well? I prefer Bellarke in the earlier seasons and non-AU. Thank you so much!

**Starting Point**

_And he was the one who came and found me, hidden away between all of the wild things._

It had been more than a handful of days since their arrival and they were still breathing. The Ark was still afloat, more and more parts of it up and running with every day that passed. There were still some problems that had to be tackled, but they were dwindling in number and minute compared to the ones they had already faced and no longer crucial to their immediate survival. Although Raven and Monty did most of the actual problem-solving, everyone remained hands-on. Tasks were assigned to each and every one of them so that survival depended on all of them. And it made Clarke feel lighter, not like a feather floating downwards but rather like one caught in a gust of air and temporarily propelled upwards because of it.

It gave her the mental room and physical time to go back to the intimate interaction she had with Bellamy a few days ago. Labeled so because it hadn't been an actual kiss, even though his lips had made contact with her skin. She found her fingers reaching for her throat and collarbone intermittently as if she could feel the marks that he had left behind. Of course, there was nothing to see, but an invisible line had been drawn and crossed simultaneously. They still acted the same in front of others and even towards one another, relying on that resilient bedrock. It didn't waver, even though it would. To make room for something more.

Clarke found herself looking at him differently, seeing him differently. Just sometimes. When they were across from another at the table or on opposite sides of the room. And she always knew that he always knew when she was watching him. His dark eyes holding an intense glint whenever he caught her gaze, lips twitching but never calling attention to their silent game of tug of war. It was something for the two of them to figure out and name. It wouldn't be temporary, like both he and she were used to. A quick fix to a craving. There was more to it. And it had been building, an invisible cord between the two of them that always tied one to the other. It had taken time to form.

Just the thought and realization associated with it was dizzying. Clarke ran her knuckles over her chest as if the cord was a tangible thing and she could actually feel the pull. Perhaps that was why she had always found a way to go in the opposite direction of Bellamy during their time on earth, needing a way out, somewhere to run. But up here the quarters were close and the distance limited.

Needing at least the impression of more space, she went to one of the look-out points scattered throughout the Ark. These points encompassed floor to ceiling windows that looked out into the dark, but never-ending cosmos. A seat was built right up against the glass and practically invited her to sit down and contemplate. Unfortunately, this seat was already taken by Murphy, the boy with the big inscrutable eyes and who seemed to have a permanent secretive smirk plastered on his face. It was as if he was taunting you with the irony of how many secrets of yours he could disclose for his own personal gain while his remained shrouded. He was like a Gordian knot. Still, she decided to be brave and met his gaze head-on, absolving him of his part in the bad blood that ran between them. At least for the time being.

"Hey."

Murphy offered up a silent nod, simply watching Clarke as she sat down on the same bench as him, turning her body towards him while simultaneously pulling up one knee. To force the distance between them that had always been innate to their understanding.

He let out a snort. "And here I thought those days were behind us," he remarked dryly, leaning his head back against the glass while keeping his eyes on the blond beside him.

Clarke turned her head, looking away from him and out of the window instead. She didn't bother pulling up her shoulders into a shrug. "I've learned that it's better to take a precaution and be safe rather than sorry. It's nothing personal." She glanced back over at him when he scoffed at her words, meeting his eyes with her own so he could see for himself that she was speaking the truth. "Not anymore."

He held her gaze for a few seconds as if weighing the validity of her words. He finally gave her a single nod, eyes turning away once more. "Yeah, the world sucks," he replied, referring to how their time on earth had taught them to always have a guard up as well as an exit strategy, just in case.

She was inclined to agree with him, though she didn't say it out loud.

"You look different," was his attempt at keeping the conversation going. He waved one hand in her general direction and she looked down at herself, at the plain black leggings that she wore tucked into a pair of scuffed black boots with an oversized gray sweater that had most likely belonged to a member of the opposite sex at one point and hung to almost her knees. She had found it on her bed a day or two ago and figured it had been her due of the supplies.

"Less warrior princess," Murphy added by way of an explanation.

She self-consciously surveyed herself in the window, noting her clean face and brushed out hair, slightly wild in its natural state. It had been a while. "I'll take that as a compliment," she decided.

He didn't say anything but contributed a barely there smile.

"How's Emori doing?" she asked, recognizing that it was now her turn to steer their exchange.

"Oh, she's adjusting. She doesn't really have a choice, seeing as how we're in space and all."

"I know I'm probably the last person you or Emori would consider," Clarke began hesitatingly, "but if she needs somebody to talk to… I've gotten used to living on the ground as well." She curled her fingers around her knee as she waited for his response.

Murphy nodded, seemingly promising her that he would keep her words in mind. "Yeah, you've managed to blend in quite well."

She licked her bottom lip as she considered her next words. "Being back up here, with no enemies to fight against and Raven and Monty doing all the heavy lifting… It's an adjustment," she confessed.

Somehow Murphy managed to speak and chuckle at the same time. "Don't tell me that survival on the Ark has become too tedious for you, what, with all the leisure time."

She cracked a smile and glanced back out of the window. "Are we alright?" she inquired in a casual manner. "I mean—"

"I know what you mean, Clarke," he cut her off. "As far as I'm concerned, bygones are bygones, though I assume it's much easier for me to say that."

She didn't say anything to that, not knowing how to vocalize her tangle of complicated and mixed emotions. There was too much to say, too much to go over. It didn't matter. Not in a world where they needed each other.

But somehow Murphy read all of this in her eyes as they scanned the blackness as if there was actually something out there worth being distracted by. "And since we're now close, or as close as we've ever been, I feel like it's my place to let you in on an observation of mine."

She frowned at his words, her attention back on him again.

"An observation regarding Bellamy… and you. I don't know what's been going on with you two, but I thought I'd let you know that whatever it is, it isn't as inconspicuous as you think it may be. You know, just a heads up.

Rendered speechless by his perceptiveness and sly way of incorporating it into their conversation, Clarke could only glare at him as he continued. "If you want my opinion, it's been a long time coming. The warrior princess and the self-proclaimed king," he mused out loud. "It's almost poetic, don't you think?" He smirked at her slightly dismayed expression. "So, if you're looking for something to do with those idle hands of yours…"

She held up both of her hands and Murphy's grin widened, his look knowing. Yet another secret that he had gotten his hands on by merely being vigilant, listening in on conversations from behind corners.

"If you tell any of the others, I—"

Now he held up both of his hands, stopping her mid-threat. "Now, now, there's no need for that, Princess," he enunciated the last word. "I'm merely exchanging information since we're friends now."

Clarke let out an exasperated sigh. "We're not friends, Murphy. We're just not adversaries."

He nodded. "Ah." He pushed himself upwards into a standing position, pocketing one hand as he turned his body slightly towards her so he could look down at her. With a single nod, he indicated to her clothes. "Oh, and I've been meaning to point this out to you, but, while I like the sweater, it is a little big on you." He reached out with his other hand, grabbing a hold of a piece of the mentioned garment and using it to maneuver himself close enough so his lips were floating in the vicinity of her ear. "Maybe because it's Bellamy's."

Clarke looked up at Murphy as she grabbed a hold of the sweater herself and tugged it from his taunting grip.

"What's going on here?"

Both Clarke and Murphy looked up at Emori as she closed the distance swiftly and came to stand next to the latter. "Because it looked like you," she paused to shoot Murphy a glare," had your hands on her," she was quick to accuse.

"On her sweater," Murphy quipped at the same time Clarke shook her head and said, "Murphy was being an ass."

"He can be," Emori agreed. "Still, I'd prefer if you didn't call him that."

"It's fine," Murphy tried to negate the situation. "It's a thing she does. We have a history."

"What history?" Emori asked, eyes alight with an emotion Clarke immediately identified as jealousy. She shook her head again. "No, not like that." She threw Murphy a furtive glance. "A little help here, Murphy."

"Yeah, no. That will never happen. Ever." He reached out to grab his girlfriend's hand, but she pulled it back before he could grab a hold. "Then you won't mind telling me what you were whispering in her ear?"

A feeling of panic fluttered through Clarke and she sought out Murphy once more with her eyes, not ready for him to say out loud what she hadn't come to terms yet internally. She got up from her seat and Emori slid her body in between Clarke's and Murphy's. "You need to stop looking at him like that, otherwise I won't be able to control the outcome."

Clarke held up both of her hands. "Emori," she said the girl's name calmly, "you have nothing to worry about, trust me."

"I don't."

Murphy let out a sigh, grabbing a hold of Emori's upper arm. "Come on, Emori. Clarke and I were just talking, mending fences so to speak. I don't like her like that. We are barely on friendly terms," he attempted to reassure her.

Behind them, Bellamy entered the large space. He assessed the situation quickly and silently while exchanging a quick look with Murphy. It took him a few strides to reach the three of them and take his place beside Clarke, forcing himself in between her and the other girl. "What's going on?"

"Not much," Murphy replied. "Emori is just being a real girl and acting overly sensitive."

Emori crossed her arms defensively. "I'm being a girl by not wanting you to touch another girl?" she asked in almost a singsong voice.

"For fuck's sake, Emori, it's not like I was coming on to her. I was messing a—joking around," Murphy swiftly reworded.

Bellamy's eyebrows raised. "What was the joke?"

"What if I promise to never ever touch him again," Clarke jumped in.

Emori nodded somewhat reluctantly. "Okay." She eyed Murphy.

"What?" He managed to refrain from rolling his eyes as he nodded. "I mean, yeah, no problem."

Emori nodded. "Good." She crossed her arms, taking a step back as she intended to retreat as unexpectedly as she had entered. But Murphy stopped her in her tracks by gently nudging her with his shoulder. She finally raised her eyes enough to make eye-contact with Clarke. "Oh, yeah, I guess I'm sorry for…"

"Overreacting," Murphy took a step closer to the dark-haired girl and playfully whispered into her ear.

"Yes, that."

"Well," he proclaimed loudly," reaching for Emori's hand and forcing her to uncross her arms. "That's as much of an apology as you're going to get." He twined his fingers with Emori's, kissing her knuckles. "Let's give these two some time alone," he directed at her, even though the words were spoken loud enough for everyone to hear. He drew Emori away from where Clarke and Bellamy were standing and started to lead her out of the room. "You're welcome, Clarke!" he yelled right before he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

"So, what exactly did I walk in on?" Bellamy inquired with a subtle tilt of his head.

Clarke sighed as she lowered herself back down onto the bench. "Murphy and I were… talking."

Her gaze lifted to level with Bellamy's, her eyes appearing more blue than he had ever recalled seeing. It was an abrupt observation, one that stuck in his head as he wondered whether he had always noticed or that it only registered now that he had touched her with a more purposeful and intimate intention. He pursed his lips together at the thought while the look on his face turned incredulous as he considered her answer.

"In his defense, and mine as well, I guess, there's not a lot of trouble for us to get into."

Bellamy's features relaxed as his lips slipped into an amused smirk, accepting the truth in her statement. He sat down, leaning forwards and leaning his elbows on his legs while Clarke pulled both of her legs up so she could sit cross-legged facing him. "I came here to think," she shared with him. "And he was already here. So, we sat here together and talked, kind of."

"About?" Bellamy glanced at her from the corners of his eyes.

"How we're not holding grudges towards one another and that we're fine. We are," she assured Bellamy as she caught the doubt that still clouded his eyes. "I asked how Emori was doing, adjusting. And then Murphy's contribution was a snarky comment, or two."

Bellamy snorted. "Well, it is Murphy."

"I'm glad he has someone though. That the two of them found each other, considering the gravity of, well, everything I suppose."

He nodded, even though he was only half listening to what she was saying. He looked at her, taking in how at ease she seemed like she had never left. Or maybe it was because he was here with her and he offered her all the comfort she needed to be like this, with him. "Are we alright" he finally asked the question on his mind.

Her answer was immediate like she didn't need to think about it at all. "We're always alright. No matter what happens. Aren't we?" she asked when he didn't reply instantaneously.

But before the apprehension could manifest itself, he responded. "Yes."

Bellamy's eyes appeared to turn a shade lighter, warmer as his gaze intensified and the substance deepened. Clarke tried to hide a smile as she ducked her head to look out of the window. She experienced the sensation of needing to catch her breath, even though her breaths seemed to be coming out too fast. They fluttered through her and Bellamy pretended not to be affected himself. "Are we going to talk about what happened between us?" he requested casually even though he sat up straight now, muscles tight and knuckles white as his fingers dug into his thighs.

Clarke averted her eyes from the window, looking up at him from beneath her lashes as she chewed on her lip. Finally, she nodded. "Okay." Her hands clasped her knees and her eyes tracked the movements as she went on, realizing that there was no way out this time. And that she wasn't looking for one either. She had done plenty of things that were scarier than this. Still, there was something about the situation that was unnerving, like it was all happening in someplace that didn't exist. It wasn't real yet. Not until they had this talk. "I'm apprehensive of things changing," she confessed. "Between us. Our relationship is solid and comfortable the way it is, you know. And I'm scared of it not working out because we're so much alike, and not necessarily in the best ways."

Bellamy let out a breath between his teeth, like the air going out of a balloon. "We don't have to take it any further, Princess," he said the words and meant them, despite knowing that it would be an opportunity missed on both their ends. "If that i—"

"I'm not uncertain, just afraid," Clarke blurted out, not wanting him to finish his sentence because maybe she had already made up her mind. "I already care so much about you. I can't bear something happening to you now, the way things are. How am I supposed to—"

"Clarke," he interrupted her this time, having trouble keeping his hands from reaching out for her, craving the skin on skin contact. "I can take care of myself. You know this."

She nodded and he took a breath. "And you can take care of yourself. But that doesn't mean that I don't worry myself sick about you whenever we part ways and don't see each other for a while. It's part of our strength," Bellamy provided. "That we rely on one another even when we're not in the same place. And that we're counting on the fact that we'll make it through and find our way back to one another." This time he did reach out for her, pushing a few loose strands from her face before letting his fingers disappear fully into her locks. He cupped the side of her face and Clarke let him, even leaning into his touch a little. His thumb swiped across her cheekbone. "That's why we're talking about it like we do with all the things that matter. It's a joint decision, one that needs to be unanimous," he promised her. "But I've never known you as the girl who let fear stop her from advancing." He looked into her eyes, really looked.

Clarke brought her hand upwards to clasp his wrist, needing him to hold on to before she nodded. She closed her eyes as she curved her body towards and into him even more. Bellamy used his hold on her to guide her further forwards until her forehead was resting against his chest. "The time apart was intentional," she whispered her confession against him. "A way for me to run away. Put a wall up."

"I hate to break it to you, Clarke," he began, using her actual name because it was a moment that warranted intentness and sincerity, "but there's nowhere to run up here."

She shoved a balled fist against his chest halfheartedly. "Are you saying it was inevitable?"

He chuckled. "I'm saying that maybe we are only now seeing what has been right in front of us all of this time because there is nothing to distract us from it," he told her calmly and almost soothingly. "You can't deny that there hasn't always been some kind of pull, Princess." He whispered the final words close to her ear and felt her shiver against him.

"It would have to be slow," came Clarke's murmured condition.

"We have time," he declared, purposely repeating the obvious because he knew she needed to hear it spoken out loud.

She withdrew enough to look up at Bellamy, eyes taking note of the contrast between the sharp lines of his face and the softness of his bottom lip. "If you're only looking to get it out of your system and sleep with me th—"

"I thought we already had this conversation."

"—en I will kick your ass," she finished.

"Oh," he said with an amused chuckle, "I remember how much of a pain you can be." He scooted closer to her, not attempting to minimize the action.

He was so close that she could smell that he had recently showered and just the knowledge turned something inside of her into liquid. "Why did you give me your sweater?" she remembered Murphy's earlier claim.

Unlike Murphy, Bellamy didn't grab a hold of her sweater, he didn't spare it so much as a glance. "I remember, from back in camp that you were always cold." He said it like it was an afterthought. "There was nothing to spare back then, so now that there is…"

Clarke uncrossed her legs, nudging her toes against his leg. Bellamy reacted instinctively and gripped her ankles just as she lifted her legs just enough so she could drape them over his lap. She wanted the nearness and maybe even needed it as much as he did. It was an uncharacteristic move for her yet it came more natural than anything ever had.

"It's a sweater," he pointed out, the lighthearted tone he used changing into something more considerable as he added, "It's a start."

Bellamy looked away, slightly embarrassed by the affection he so openly showed her. A faint blush tinted her features and on a whim, Clarke leaned forwards and pressed a kiss against his clean-shaven cheek.

Now it was her turn to look away, eyes back on the cosmos. And this time it was Bellamy who reacted and entwined his fingers with her own.

They were small actions.

They were large gestures.

And it was a start.

 


End file.
